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Before the moon descends, the frost on the window grows more imposing on every day into this December, only recently started after a dragging November. The radiators sparingly placed around my home, always come on slightly too late for a breakfast in warmth, your feather touch, on my chest, always beckons the emotional extremity of every winter.

I've always wanted to go back to the glory days before all this began, everyone still in abundance at our work, now everyone is so busy with their own lives, the freezing burn of the snow, on fingertips, is how it all gets treated nowadays, but in you I find all the potential. If only the day could change, waiting for you to come home, beginning with every evening that we'd plan the art meticulously, always the beauty of the sex afterwards that's been designed to be otherworldly and borderline spiritual.

Untangling the struggle of the day, spending most of it sat at my laptop, making green tea and pesto pasta for lunch, the midday sun turning the ice to half water as it is uncomfortable, still the scent in the air has me falling in love with my memories again. Getting anxious for my files for the day to send through to the company system, inserting my company key card to verify my identity, a slight chill coming through the window, placing my feelings in what I'm doing, all in you.

Not before long, it is just after 5pm, you message me on WhatsApp to let me know you are on your way home, a small relief comes over me and I fire up the oven to prepare to make dinner. Only niggling on the subject of sex tonight, fleeting light flirting during the day has had me feeling it in the pit of my stomach.

You arrive home, the wheels of the car graze against the gravel, a much self limiting butterfly transcends to my spine, I know you put the cute lingerie on underneath your work attire, the frills of your bra perfectly accentuating your bust.

The cooking of dinner is on a mindless autopilot as we become closer at each of our last bite, with the happiness of the evening moving into the bedroom. The abyss of the winter night sky, the scent coming through as we now adorn the bed of which we’ve shared many a desperate sweat in the pursuit of orgasm.

You can’t withhold exclaiming on the sensation of me going down on you, buying into that forgotten reality once again as you are extremely wet, only seen on screens decades ago but for us it is reality.

You proudly spread your legs, marvelling at the softness of my body, as am I for you, as I come down to make love to you in missionary, the sex starting slow yet you couldn’t care of the technicalities. 

You feel my cock get harder inside you, of course it is only natural as I lick your nipples, my lips pressing against the softest front of your breast. You don’t know how but you’re enjoying my cock and mouth as one, it’s an unbearable pleasure but you are now at one with it, the synchronicity of the sex is the language spoken all over the world, even at the same time as us.

I begin to get faster as the joy builds into one with us, we both unrelentingly moan, yours not knowing no restraint. We are both extremely aroused and this now allows for a beautiful orgasm as we feel the sweat, your squirt soaking into a puddle between us. 

We both go to resume our evening, not a word said, for us it’s our natural care.

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